


Comment Card

by thepeskyunicorn



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Library AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5697334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeskyunicorn/pseuds/thepeskyunicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The break room in the librarians’ office is in an uproar after one of the interns passed around a comment card from the suggestions box just outside the library’s front door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comment Card

**Author's Note:**

> Saw his prompt by quoth-the-ravenclaw.tumblr.com: 'someone left a comment card in the suggestions box that says "the reference librarian is super cute" and now all the reference librarians are arguing over who it's for.
> 
> I got carried away and wrote a little more than the above prompt's content. Enjoy!

The break room in the librarians’ office is in an uproar after one of the interns passed around a comment card from the suggestions box just outside the library’s front door. 

Usually, Gaby would have guessed that these cards contain crude jokes and obscene propositions from the few jokers from the nearby university or phone numbers from shady entrepreneurs, but Victoria had took it upon herself to stand outside and glare at anyone who tried to drop anything in the suggestions box last week. The good news is that pranks stopped immediately, but Gaby heard from a few of her classmates that they have decided to study in another library after the incident. Victoria tends to have that effect on people.

No, this comment card is genuine. Some ninny had written ‘the reference librarian is very cute’ but neglected to mention the name, leading to one of the biggest argument amongst the reference librarians in the break room since the Great Finals Fallout of 2012.

“Well, obviously it’s addressed to me,” Alexander Vinciguerra boasts, bringing a cup with the words 'CUNT', with the handle as a 'C', to his lips. The cup was given to Alexander as a joke on his birthday, with the reasoning that he would be so insulted by it that he would put it in the corner and never let it see the light of day, but they had underestimated the intensity of his douchiness. Illya had hid it in five different spot and once tried to smash it into little pieces, but it always found its way back into Alexander's hands. "I'd say it was left by that cute girl who came in yesterday asking for that Greek mythology book."

Gaby rolled her eyes, adding another spoon of sugar into her tea. "You're married, Alex."

"To me." Victoria's voice drawled from where she's hidden behind the filing cabinets.

Alexander waved away the comment. "The point is, I still got what it takes for the women to keep coming."

Illya scrunched his nose, taking out his sandwich from the refrigerator and unwrapping it. "With that ugly mustache of yours, you'd be sending women running from you than towards you."

Alexander smirks at him over the cup. "Says the pot to the kettle. I don't see you getting any in that fuck ugly jacket and cap," he snorted, holding his hand up for Gaby to high five. She ignored him.

Illya’s hand came up to touch his jacket, as if trying to protect it from the insult. "This is perfectly good jacket. I do not know what you're talking about."

Seeing Alexander open his mouth to counter Illya, Gaby cut in. "I bet it's from the cute guy in the waistcoat who came in last afternoon." she shrugged, levelling a stare at Illya. "You know, the one who tried to flirt with Illya and got snubbed? Or," she continued thoughtfully, "It could be the guy in the Star Wars shirt that stuttered when he tried to talk to me."

"He will not talk to you." Illya announced, rising up with his unwrapped sandwich like an avenging angel of Gaby's virtue. He has taken it upon himself to vet all of Gaby's conquests, a self appointed role which he prides himself on. Gaby is mildly amused and just slightly annoyed that she hasn't had any sex for three months due to Illya's strict standards. "He is not worthy."

Alexander scoffed. "Calm your tits, Peril. Pretty sure a nerdy guy like that couldn't have written such a thing."

"I'll put my bet on Waistcoat Man," Victoria said, winding her way to where they are standing. Giving her husband a light kiss on the lips, she stole a sip of his coffee and wiped her mouth delicately. "He has the most charming smile and was unexpectedly polite. Plus, he smells nice." She turns to Illya, penetrating and just a little intimidating. Illya does not look impressed. He has been the recipient of the stare too many times for it to have an effect. "He seems to have taken a liking to our dear Peril here." Smiling, she continues. "You really should go chat with him, my dear. He is quite a catch. So very handsome."

Alexander twitched beside her.

Glancing at her husband, Victoria grinned. "Not as handsome as you, of course, darling."

Illya grumbled, taking a large bite of the bread. "I do not like him." he pronounced decisively. "He tried to make sexual advances towards me."

Victoria eyed his figure appreciatively,"Darling, with a face like that, who wouldn't?"

Illya looked scandalized. "I do not even know his name!"

Gaby patted his arm sympathetically, picking up her mug and moving towards the front desk. "With any luck, he'll pop in today and you'll find out."

Illya glared at the sandwich and chewed aggressively like it had done him wrong, clearly not looking forward to meeting the stranger again.

\---

Tough titties Kuryakin, Gaby thought gleefully as the Waistcoat Man strode in. You're going to find out his name whether you like it or not. Nudging Illya from where he was cataloguing books beside her, she pointed discreetly at the guy, who is now perusing their new arrivals section.

Illya took one look at Waistcoat Man and stood up to retreat into the break room. But not before ogling his ass. Which Gaby very much approve of.

She sighed, making her way around the desk towards the man. Illya may be very tall and very intimidating, but he can be such a little chickenshit sometimes.

Turning her head, she glared at the Illya, who is currently poking his head out from the break room and glaring daggers at Gaby, warning her not to make contact. It's a threat that he'll never go through, seeing how much he actually loves her, so she rolls her eyes and continues onwards.

Putting on her best smile, she tapped the man’s shoulder. He turned around, eyebrows raised in askance and Gaby did a double take. Whoa, he's more handsome up close.

"Excuse me, sir, is there anything I can help you with?"

The man smiled, and Gaby is especially taken by the way his eyes crinkles at the corner. "Why, yes, thank you. I'm trying to find a particular book on wine, and I was led to believe that this library had a copy. Could you locate it for me?" his voice is smooth and deep, with a hint of British accent, the kind that makes women go weak at the knees. Pulling out a crumpled piece of paper with the title written on it, he handed it to Gaby, smile polite but disinterested.

Gaby took a brief glance at the loopy script on the paper, barely noting down the title before answering, "Oh, I'm sure my colleague will be very glad to help you. Illya!" she hissed across the library, mindful of her voice. Turning back to the man, she continues. "Illya is very dedicated. He memorized the titles of all the books here in our library."

"Really?" And that is definitely interest she hears in his voice. "It must have taken a lot of hard work and talent to pull off such a feat."

"Oh, I assure you, that's not his only talent." Gaby winked as the man shoots her an amused look. "I'll get Illya and you can talk more about it with him, Mr...?"

"Solo," the man replied, holding out his hand for a shake. His grip is firm and warm, a good sign. "Napoleon Solo."

Gaby shakes his hand, grinning. "And I'm Gaby. Gaby Teller. Pleased to meet you."

Ducking into the break room, she sees Illya standing morosely by the counter nursing a cup of tea, refusing to meet her eye. 

“Illyaaaaa,” she sing-songs, waltzing over and plucking the mug out of his grip. “I told him that you’re going to help him search for a book on wine.” She pressed the piece of paper into his hands, which are large enough to crush hers. Illya frowned at the writing and looked at her, betrayed. 

“This is not good idea,” he hissed, looking slightly panicked that he has to talk to Solo. “I do not even know him. What do I say?”

Gaby rolled her eyes and tried to pull Illya towards the door. He maintained his stance near the water cooler with little effort, eyes wide and hands balled into fists. “His name is Napoleon Solo, by the way. And you talk to strangers in the library everyday, Illya. Now come on, don’t be a sissy and go talk to him.”

“I am not sissy,” Illya says stubbornly, but he follows her out anyway. 

As soon as he stepped out the break room, his eyes widened at the sight of Napoleon standing at the front desk with his hands in his pockets, casual and relaxed, before shaking his head as if he was dislodging something, turning on his heels to walk briskly in the direction of the food section with a gruff “follow me”. Napoleon looks bemused, but ambled after him nonetheless. 

Watching the two of them walk side by side, Gaby grinned as phase one of Operation Get Illya Laid is set into motion.

\---

Napoleon comes in more often now, sometimes bringing in his work to complete in the study area. He learns the names of the librarians and they in turn learns about him. Napoleon Solo is an English professor at the local university, writes articles for the luxury magazines, and is a man of sophisticated taste. He is always dressed impeccably, always stays until closing time, and always, always find ways to flirt with Illya in the most shameless way possible.

Gaby, Victoria, and Alexander are currently crowded around a recorder, with Waverly from Collections not very discreetly eavesdropping. Alexander, in a move of genius, had hid a walkie talkie with its button taped down near the shelves where Illya and Napoleon are when he walked past the Reference section earlier. As they were both busy engaging in their bizarre version of flirtation, they never noticed anything amissed.

The three of them had then taken an impromptu break, squeezing next to Alexander’s desk, intently listening to their conversation.

There is a crackle and some rustling as Illya moved around, trying to put the books back into their correct position. Then, they heard Napoleon’s voice, distinct and clear. “So, Peril, I forgot to mention this, but a few weeks ago, I left a comment card with a particularly cheeky comment on it.”

Victoria let out a gasp. “So it is him,” she murmurs.

Alexander slips her and Gaby a twenty, looking sour that he lost the bet. He had been absolutely convinced that it was the girl who borrowed the Greek mythology book.

There is a soft thunk as Illya slides the book into place. “So?”

Napoleon coughed. “Well, I didn’t include a name, partly because I didn’t know, and partly because I thought it was quite obvious who it was.”

There is a pause and the sound of shuffling. Gaby could imagine the look of bewilderment on Illya’s face. Oh, the poor, oblivious sweetheart.

Napoleon cleared his throat again. “It’s you.”

Another awkward pause.

“...Oh,” Illya finally replied, embarrassment in his voice. “Yes. Of course. Thank you. You are too kind.” There is a shyness to his voice that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago, back when they first met. Illya must have warmed up to Napoleon enough to show such vulnerability. He didn’t even have the decency to speak in Napoleon’s direction, choosing monosyllabic grunts as a form of communication instead. Gaby did a silent fist pump. This is a massive improvement and the indication that phase three is good to go.

There is another long silence, this one less awkward than the one before. Just as they were about to give up on listening, Illya’s voice piped through again, slightly awkward and rough.

“I think you are very cute too.”

Behind them, Waverly chokes back a laugh.

Alexander groaned. “And this is why, ladies and gentlemen, the Red Peril hasn’t gotten laid since high school.”

Victoria swatted him. “I think it’s very sweet of him,” she says. “Usually, he’s so emotionally constipated he wouldn’t say ‘hello’ to me in the morning.”

“That’s because you used to make him reshelf all the books immediately after he clocks in.” Gaby pointed out.

Victoria shrugged elegantly, unapologetic. “You’ve got to break the new ones in,” she defended, batting her heavily lined eyes.

“Ah, a compliment from the Red Peril himself. Hel must be freezing over.” Gaby could almost picture the playful smirk on Napoleon’s face.

“Don’t push your luck Cowboy.”

Their voices are drifting further and further away from the walkie talkie, making harder to make out their conversation. Realising that they are probably heading towards the checkout counter near the break room, Alexander hissed “Scatter!” and whisked the walkie talkie away. 

Victoria rose and swished out of the break room, followed closely by Gaby with an armful of books, making it seem like they just happened to bump into Napoleon and Illya, who are walking too close to be completely platonic. A few of the patrons in the library are eyeing them in amusement, the surly giant and the suave talker, but they look away as Illya catches their eyes and glared.

“Napoleon, darling! So good to see you again.” Victoria pulled Napoleon away from Illya’s side, ignoring the lost look on his face as Napoleon smiled and returned Victoria’s greeting. “How many books will it be today? Just one? Well, darling, why don’t I check them out for you now.” Leading Napoleon away from Gaby and Illya, who are now walking in the other direction, Illya graciously handling the mountain of books Gab was carrying, she lowered her voice and pinned Napoleon with her trademark stare.

“Well, Mr Solo, it seems like you have taken quite a fancy to our Illya here.” She took the book from Napoleon’s hands and held up a hand before he tried to speak. “Before you say anything, Mr Solo, I’ll have you know that Illya is rather smitten by you too, and that I know eighty three ways to kill you with paper alone.” She smiled sweetly, scanning his book with practiced motions and stamping it without breaking eye contact. “So try not to break his heart, will you? It would be such a pity to miss you visiting our library.”

Napoleon collected his book from her, brows furrowed and tone light. “Of course, Madam Vinciguerra.” Tucking the book under his arm, Napoleon bowed a little, continuing, “I have no ill intentions towards Illya or his friends. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’ll disembowel me first before your threats can take place.”

Victoria smiled again, this time softer and more genuine. “I like you, Napoleon.” Standing, she made her way from behind the checkout counter. “Oh, and before I forget, there’s a little Italian place that opened downtown that's been getting rave reviews. If you and Illya finally decide to get together, give me a call, won't you. I do love a double date."

"I'll be sure to give you an update, Madam Vinciguerra. That is, if your walkie talkie doesn't tell you first."

Victoria felt her smile widen. Illya had really chosen a hell of a guy.

\----

It took approximately another two months for the last phase of Gaby's plan to follow through, although she didn't have to try very hard to get them together. A man as well dressed as Napoleon takes good care of himself and those he cares about, and right now, Illya is probably at the top of his list, followed by his suits and hair gel.

Most of the library staff have come to recognise Napoleon, and many, if not all, are charmed by his presence. He greets everyone when he comes in every noon, never misses a due date, and even baked lemon meringue pie for the staff.

"Marry him," Alice from accountings demanded while stuffing her mouth full of delicious goodness. "Then chain him to the stove and never let him leave." Illya looked on with bewildered proudness as they descended on Napoleon’s pie.

Together with the introduction of Napoleon is the marked improvement in Illya's behavior. Perhaps it was Napoleon's playful cheekiness that rubbed off, but Illya is now more inclined to smile and less likely to send a death glare and a punch in response to every small quip on him, his friends, or Russia. Napoleon, on the other hand, has become less sharp, with his rough edges sanded down, making him warmer and more accepting of vulnerability. Gaby's immensely proud of the two peas in a repressed pod.

It seems more of a natural occurrence that they would have done it , in the biblical sense, a long time ago. But according to an very intoxicated Illya last Friday, they haven't even kissed, much to Alexander’s disappointment as he had been the one paying for the shots to get Illya drunk enough to confess. Given Napoleon’s reputation, this is a surprise.

"We're taking it slow," Illya had said primly to Gaby as he logged in the books into his computer. "As much as I like Napoleon, this is not something I want to rush."

It was sweet, albeit boring, for restless librarians who thrive on gossip.

It made Gaby worry, and she doesn't worry often. She was half concerned that Napoleon was stringing Illya along, although the way he behaves towards Illya suggests otherwise.

They all came to naught, however, on the second week after the annual book delivery, when the three other reference librarians are once again crowded around Alexander's much smaller and more technologically advanced walkie talkie. Apparently, Napoleon and Illya are discussing poetry. Or more sickeningly, reciting poetry to one another. Because they don't kiss but they do quote romantic poetry. Charming.

" I love you - I love you, e'en as I/ Rage at myself for this obsession," Illya murmured, voice soft and tender. There is something so quietly unique of the moment, just the two of them ensconed in the bubble of security and love near the knitting section that Gaby suddenly felt uncomfortable for intruding on such an intimate moment.

There is a soft laugh from Napoleon. "Quoting Pushkin now, are we?"

"He is Russian," declared Illya proudly. "And a very good poet."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

There's a rustling of fabric as Illya moves. "What about you Cowboy? Any capitalist themed poems you would like to share?"

"I'm actually quite partial to T.S Eliot, really." Napoleon's voice drew closer as he moved forward. "Especially 'The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock'."

"I do not trust any poem that has the word 'love' in its title."

"Ah, the pot calling it kettle black. Weren't you just reciting a love poem yourself?" 

"That is different." Illya sounds breathless, his voice lower than it usually is.

There is a dull thunk somewhere distant through the walkie talkie. Napoleon seems to have moved close enough to Illya to startle him into dropping the book.

“Mm hmm,” Napoleon all but purred. "Actually, I’ve been thinking about this line in relation to us. I find it quite relevant to our current situation.” His voice hitched, uncertainty making it rough. “‘’Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, /Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?’" 

Gaby could hear the smile in Illya's voice. "You're incorrigible, Cowboy."

Napoleon's voice is low and sultry, and his words makes Gaby blush. "Really? It seems you very much like it this way, my dear.”

And then there is the wet sound of sliding lips, coupled with the muffled movement of body.In that glorious, breathless moment, they are kissing.

Alexander stared at the walkie talkie in surprise and disgust, reaching over to turn it off, but Victoria slapped his hand away with a glare.

The sound is abruptly cut off as they both held their breath to the sound of footsteps, and then Waverly's voice sounded out, wearied with the tone of a man who have seen too much of the world's horror. "I know this is a wonderful occasion and I hate to interrupt, but please don't shag in the library boys. We do have children here."

Napoleon’s voice came through, wicked and just a tad giddy. “Oh, no, of course not. Besides, there is a bed at home waiting specially for us now.”

“I clock out at nine,” Illya replied, sounding confused. Alexander stifled a snort and gets a smack on the arm from Victoria for his troubles.

Napoleon tsked. “I’m sure we can convince Madam Vinciguerra to let you off early this once.”

Illya hummed, thinking. “I think she can let me off at six if I promise to take over cart duty for the week.”

There is the sound of shuffling feet and Napoleon’s voice sounds further away now. “I’m sure she can let us off right now. It’s almost six, and besides, I can make no promises on not jumping you right here, right now.” He laughs at Illya’s scandalised gasp.

“Despite what you think about my taste in poetry, Peril,” Napoleon’s voice is drifting past the break room now as he whisks past, with Illya following willingly behind. “I’m sure you’ll have nothing but praises for what I’m about to do to you later.”

The door to the library’s entrance swung shut, leaving the three around the silent walkie talkie to linger on their exit.

There is a long silence for a while, and then Victoria stands, plucking out her phone from her pocket. “Well then, I’d better make that reservation for the restaurant. Alexander, darling, how do you feel about a double date?”

\-------

Nothing changed much after the incident, which had been promptly nicknamed ‘The Great ‘Get Illya Laid’ Operation of 2015’ and it was to the surprise of exactly nobody. Illya can occasionally be seen slightly smiling at the library’s patron rather than outright glowering at them, Napoleon had memorised the location of exactly two hundred and twenty five books thanks to his boyfriend, and the two of them are sickeningly sweet together. 

The library gains an unofficial staff, directly correlating to the increase in library attendance. Everyone welcomes Napoleon with open arms, especially when he bring baked goods along.

The suggestions box gets a makeover with the help of the reference section’s librarians, which Napoleon uses to send Illya messages every few days. And if Illya suddenly becomes more eager to go through the messages, it has nothing to do with the poetry written on them.

They are a happy, dysfunctional family, and Gaby couldn’t be happier for them.


End file.
